Disclaimer In chapter 1

A/N I'm sorry this took so long. I lost my muse. If anyone's seen it, please send it back to me via e-mail. Thanks a bunch.

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Alone

Harry woke up from a peaceful nights sleep the following morning. He had used the Sleeping Draft, and his sleep had been dreamless; a nice change. He felt better than he had felt in months, though he wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing. What if the Death Eaters noticed that he was getting better? He doubted that though. They never really seemed to notice his condition.

He stretched, and then put his hands against his chest. His ribs were definitely bruised, but he wasn't sure if they were still broken. He wished his hands weren't tied, he needed to stretch his shoulders, but the best he could do was stretching them up. He groaned and leaned back against the stone wall. He could hear deep voices carrying through the door, and figured that a couple of Death Eaters were having a conversation.

He decided to concentrate on something he had been working on when he had first been locked up. Wandless magic. Since they had taken his wand away from him (and presumably locked it away in Voldemort's office) he had basically no way to defend himself. He knew he could do wandless magic if he wanted, he had done it on several occasions during his summers at Privet Drive. So he had started to try moving things around; bits of food, small rocks he found on the ground, but nothing happened. He figured it was similar to his Parseltongue abilities, he could only speak it when he was confronted with a snake, or, in the case of wandless magic, when he was facing danger.

He decided to try it now, while he was not nursing wounds. The Death Eaters were bound to show up soon, so he immediately dug in his pocket for the chicken bone he had gotten when Snape had brought him food. He set it carefully on the dark stone in front of him where he could barely see it. There was a slight stream of light pouring in through the crack at the bottom of the door that seemed to silhouette the pasty white object ominously.

Harry breathed, and then whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa," concentrating on the bone.

Nothing happened.

Harry tried again, this time saying the words more forcefully and concentrating harder on the bone.

Again, nothing happened.

Getting frustrated, he tried a third time. When nothing happened again, he scooped up the bone and chucked it into a dark corner, cursing under his breath. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He shouldn't lose his temper so easily, he needed to focus. He crawled the length of the room and started searching wildly for the bone. He found it, but discovered it had shattered in half upon hitting the wall. He took the largest shard he could find back to his usual spot on the wall. He didn't like staying in the dark corners. They reminded him of his cupboard back at Privet Drive.

Again, he placed it on the ground in front of him. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said calmly, imagining the bone lifting from the ground and soaring to the door. The object gave a sort of tired wobble, lifted an inch from the ground, and then fell back again, with a small clank. He felt drained instantly as if he had just run a long distance. Slightly proud of his accomplishment and slightly disappointed that his progress was so trivial, Harry closed his eyes and tried not to think about what would happen when he woke up again.

-

"Master wants to see you," a sickeningly nasal voice said almost mockingly.

"Again?" Harry groaned, opening his eyes. What he saw shocked him.

"Master does not like Harry Potter. Master wishes to kill Harry Potter."

"K-Kreacher?" Harry gasped.

The crouched house-elf went into his usual muttering. "The foul boy recognizes Kreacher. He is not as dumb as Master claims him to be. But he is still foul. He loved his godfather. Yes, but good Kreacher ended that. Mistress was most proud of Kreacher. Reward him, she did. Sent him to new Master. Kreacher likes it much better here. . . ."

Harry found himself trembling with rage. He didn't know how long ago it had been that Sirius had fallen through the veil, but barely three months later Harry had been captured and forced to relive that night in the Department of Mysteries every time he slept. The pain was still fresh.

He wanted to strangle that disgusting, foul, traitorous animal that was standing before him. He wanted to watch that creature suffer, to realize what Sirius' death had done to him. But he settled for whispering out a threat.

"When I get out of here, you'll be the second in line after I kill Voldemort," he hissed menacingly.

Kreacher laughed evilly. "The boy thinks he will escape. He doesn't know what Master has planned for him. No, he has no idea. . . ."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said viciously.

Kreacher laughed again. "Master wishes to see you." Two forms appeared in the doorway and strode in past Kreacher. They each seized one of Harry's arms and dragged him from the dungeon. Harry didn't bother to tell them that he could walk.

It was dark outside when they emerged into the Entrance Hall. He was dragged into the Great Hall, and was thrown to the floor in front of the head table. Once again, the room was packed with students, all of them with their attention on Harry. Some of them had a hungry look in their eyes as they looked at the boy. Harry was sure all of them were wishing Voldemort would choose them to torture him this time. Voldemort strode around the table so he could stand closer to Harry.

"Enjoy your Christmas, Potter?" he asked sneering.

Harry looked around. "Today's Christmas?" he asked.

"Yesterday was," Voldemort corrected him. "I'm so sorry I didn't send you a present. I thought maybe it would be better for you to receive it in person." The whole crowd erupted in laughter. Harry got to his feet.

"Then give it to me," he said. His voice was strong, his eyes focused. He no longer feared this man, if he could be called a man. Harry didn't fear death. Instead, death would be welcome. He didn't fear anything anymore, something he had come to realize during long hours down in his dungeon. Voldemort seemed to realize he no longer posed as a threat to Harry.

"It seems that I no longer have a use for you," Voldemort said, peering at Harry with those emotionless red eyes.

"So you'll just dispose of me then?" Harry asked. "You just get rid of everything that poses as an obstacle to you? Excuse me, Tom Riddle," Harry said viciously, "but to me that sounds like a coward."

"Enough!" Voldemort shouted. Harry smiled. He had reached a soft spot.

"Funny, though," Harry went on, "how you consider Muggle-borns to be cowards when you are one yourself."

The silence in the hall was deafening. Voldemort looked at Harry, breathing heavily. Harry's temper was getting up. If he got angry enough, he might be able to perform some magic. . . .

As soon as he thought this the ropes binding Harry's hands fell to the ground, cut. He looked down at his free hands, and looked up at Voldemort to see his shocked face.

"You have served your purpose," Voldemort said, regaining his composure. The long black wand emerged from his robes. He swished it high above his head.

"Merry Christmas. Avada Kedavra!" he cried.

Harry didn't know why he did it, but almost automatically he raised his hand to the green beam of light heading his way. "No!" he shouted.

And miraculously, the spell stopped in midair. It was causing Harry every ounce of strength to keep the spell stationary. Fogginess was already creeping into his vision, his legs were starting to give way, but still he kept his hand raised.

The green light of the curse dulled as the power drained out of it. It was now merely beam of white light hanging in midair.

Harry was dimly aware of everyone staring at the scene in shock, and as though from a distance he heard Voldemort screech, "Kill him!"

Harry fell to the ground on his knees. And then, his mind went blank.

-

Blinking twice he looked around. He was in a completely white room, windowless and door-less. It reminded him of the type of insane asylum they showed in Muggle movies.

The wall to his right slid open and a familiar tall man strode through it.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled. The man didn't respond. He simply kept walking and disappeared through the opposite wall. Harry followed.

They went through another white room, identical to the one Harry had just been in, and then they emerged into a large stone room, similar to a dungeon but well lit so it didn't hold a threatening presence. In the center of the room was a type of pool. Sirius walked to the water where four other people were crouched. Harry recognized them all from behind. Sirius took his seat next to a man with wild black hair and black framed glasses. On the man's left was a woman with red hair, and next to her was a tall boy with dark brown hair. Next to him was a skinny, blonde boy with sharp gray eyes.

"How's he doing?" Sirius asked. His voice echoed in the room. Harry couldn't decide if Sirius himself was an echo, like what had happened in the graveyard a year ago, or if the room merely echoed.

"He's losing his strength," James Potter answered. Harry decided that it was just the size of the room that created the echo. Those people were quite real.

"He could die at any moment," Cedric Diggory added.

"He could already be here with us," Lily Potter said, casting her eye around the room. She looked right through Harry.

"Won't we see him?" Draco Malfoy asked, also glancing around.

"No. He is still alive, though creeping into unconsciousness," James responded.

"So his mind is here and there also?" Draco asked, obviously confused. He wasn't the only one. Harry had no clue what was going on

"No," Sirius said, "his mind is there fully, but he is dreaming now. Similar to a day dream."

"Potter always day dreamed in Potions," Draco said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"We all did," James said.

Harry walked over to the group and sat next to his godfather. He looked into the pool. He gasped.

There, in the pool below him, he was watching himself struggling with the deadly spell Voldemort had cast at him. Several more were cast at him from surrounding Death Eaters, and Harry stopped each of them in turn.

"He can't hold much longer, can he?" Cedric Diggory asked.

"He could die from the effort," Lily said.

"I wouldn't mind seeing him again," James said guiltily.

"None of us would," Sirius agreed.

"You can't forget the prophecy so soon!" Lily shrieked. "You're both so greedy!"

James shrugged, his face still expressionless. "We weren't serious, Lily."

"Yeah, hold your hippogriffs," Sirius said.

"So if Potter is here, he can hear us, right?" Draco asked, clearly still not understanding the concept.

James nodded.

"So why don't we talk to him?"

"Go ahead if you wish to have a one-sided conversation, Malfoy," Cedric said, not taking his eyes off the water.

"How much could you possibly have to say to Harry anyway?" Sirius asked. "I thought you hated him."

Draco didn't respond. Instead, he let out an audible gasp. Harry turned his attention back to the water. He had just collapsed to the floor. Had a spell gotten through?

His questions were answered as he felt himself being pulled away from the room. He longed to stay, even if he couldn't talk to the people there. He wanted to find out more, to hear more of Malfoy's questions. He didn't even know if that place was real, but he knew for a fact that it was better than Hogwarts.

But he found himself once again trapped inside his own head. All he saw was darkness.

Okay, so he wasn't dead, yet he couldn't open his eyes. He wasn't unconscious because he was still thinking, and to think you had to be conscious, right? Someone touched his shoulder and rolled him over. He realized the reason why he couldn't see anything, he had been face-down on the floor of the Great Hall. The reason why he couldn't open his eyes was because they were already open. He couldn't shut them either.

"Is he dead?" a distant cold voice asked.

Someone touched his neck. He couldn't move his eyes to see who it was. "No pulse."

He recognized that voice! But from where? Everything seemed like a dream to him. His memories were all swirled together.

"Shall I dispose of him, my lord?" the same voice asked.

The image of a bat with greasy black hair appeared in his mind's eyes, and he struggled to say, "Snape!" He didn't even manage to move his lips.

"Yes," the high voice said.

Snape picked Harry up with an arm under his legs and another under his back. He was carried from the hall and out through the front doors into the chilling winter air. Snape carried him out to the Forbidden Forest and a ways into it. Harry wanted to shout, to make Snape realize he wasn't dead, but again couldn't move at all.

Snape set Harry down in the snow which succeeded in chilling Harry to the bone.

"You're not dead, Potter," Snape said.

Harry didn't respond. Obviously.

"You've had all your energy drained from your body. It was to be expected from the level of magic you just performed."

Snape pulled out his wand. He cast a heating spell on Harry.

"I need to alert Dumbledore to come pick you up. The Dark Lord need never know you've survived. But if I leave you like this a werewolf is bound to find you and then we're doomed."

Snape pulled a small bottle out of his pocket.

"I have some Strength Potion, but that is not nearly enough to keep you alive, so I will be transferring some of my own energy to you."

Harry wanted to protest, but he couldn't. He merely lay there, looking absently up at the treetops.

A bottle was placed at his lips, and the contents were emptied into his mouth. It simply streamed down his throat, Harry not able to swallow.

Snape muttered a serious of spells Harry couldn't hear, and then a ball of light appeared hovering above him. It lowered into his chest, and Harry suddenly found himself able to move again. He sat up, sputtering with some of the potion still caught in his throat, and gasping for air. Snape was looking slightly weary, slumped down in the snow beside him.

"You didn't need to do that," Harry said, turning to him.

"So you would have preferred that I had left you here to die?" Snape asked skeptically.

Harry shrugged.

"Before I forget," Snape said, digging into his pocket for something. He produced a wand. He handed it to Harry.

When Harry's fingers wrapped around it, scarlet and gold sparks shot out of the end. It was his wand. His wand. Harry looked at it.

"I thought I wouldn't see it again," he admitted to Snape.

"I took the liberty of nicking it from the Dark Lord's office when he wasn't paying attention. Don't lose it again, Potter."

Harry nodded, and rose to his feet. Snape stood also. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

"Let me just say, Potter, that when this is all over, I'll still treat you like the scum that you are."

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way." And then, Snape smiled. A genuine smile. The Potions Master extended his hand, and Harry shook it briefly. "Thank you."

Snape nodded. "I'll owl Dumbledore at once. Where should I say you'll be?"

Harry thought for a moment. "The Shrieking Shack. I'm assuming that Death Eaters are swarming Hogsmeade—" Snape nodded "—and they can't have been able to get into the Shack. That's safest, I think."

Snape looked at him. "Keep your head down, Potter. I don't know if they've discovered the passageway to the Shack or not. Don't risk leaving the Shack for any reason. I'm not about to see that this has all been in vain."

Harry grinned. "It hasn't been. And it won't be. I'll keep my head down if you do the same. We're depending on you for inside information now."

A trace of a smile flitted across Snape's features. "Agreed." He turned on his heel and walked back towards the school leaving Harry feeling as alone as ever.

-

A/N To tell you the truth, I didn't have this chapter planned out this way at all. I was actually planning to have Harry unconscious for a few days, and Snape trying to heal him, and Dumbledore and Ron and Hermione all worried. . . .

But this way was much quicker, and in my opinion, much more emotional. Even though this means I'll have to re-plan my entire story, it's fine. I'm up for the challenge. This was a confusing chapter (I didn't understand parts of it), so I'll be shocked if no one asks me to explain something. Unless my writing's really that good and I actually have the ability to translate my thoughts onto paper. . . which I doubt horrendously.

I don't know when the next chapter will be up. Reviews are welcome, once again.

Lost:

One muse. Goes by the name of Brilliance. Only a baby. Has green eyes.

If found, please return in a review. Thank you.

Felony Melanie